


hurts like ghosts

by bereft_of_frogs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Loki (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Panic Attacks, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Thor (2011), Protective Siblings, Protective Thor (Marvel), Rape/Non-con Elements, Shapeshifter Loki (Marvel), Shapeshifting, Slavery, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, team revengers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: 400 years ago, the princes of Asgard and the Warriors Three were sent to break up a group of slavers.Now, a few months into the Revenger's voyage through the cosmos, an accident aboard the Asgardian refugee vessel sends them in for an emergency landing on a planet whose vices feel eerily familiar. The planet's kinship with a certain immortal despot brings back bad memories. Thor has to keep his head, protect his people, and navigate them through the complicated political world - without letting anyone on to their biggest secrets. But he's perhaps not as unaffected by past trauma as he thought, and he starts to feel that he might collapse under the pressure.Or: Sakaar left unexpected scars and Thor's not sure he can deal with it.





	hurts like ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: direct but not graphic discussion of rape and abuse (including implied past-nonconsensual Loki/Grandmaster), slavery (both sexual and not), human trafficking, forced drug use, forced prostitution, canon-style forced combat, panic attacks

 

 

 

_400 Years Ago_

 

“You’re very beautiful,” The man says, tucking his companion’s raven hair behind her ear.

She smiles coyly. “Thank you.”

“Drink, drink,” He says, pushing the glass of wine towards her.

She affects an innocent, naive expression. “I’ve never been one to drink too much, I don’t like what it does to my powers. I thought you knew many mages, is that not a common opinion?”

“It is not uncommon, my lady, you are correct,” He admits. “But this wine…ah, this wine is worth it for the taste alone, dear. It is just phenomenal, very rare to find on Alfheim. And one glass will not affect your magic too badly, I swear it on my honor.” He puts his hand to his chest.

“The wine may not, but whatever he’s put in it certainly will,” Fandral remarks under his breath.

“Shhh!”

“He’s not going to hear us, Sif. And even if he does, we’ll have the evidence we need.”

“We didn’t need _evidence_ , Fandral, we need him to lead us to the others, weren’t you even _listening_ to the plan?”

“If you two would please,” Thor sighs. “Just shut up.”

Across the barroom, the woman has drained the wine.

“Good, is it not?”

She nods. “Very. Very good.” Her words are slurred. She sways in her seat and the man catches her wrist.

“Did you not like it? Would you not like some more?” He pours her another glass and holds it to her lips. It seems as though she is already too out of it to refuse. She does not resist as he tips the liquid into her mouth. Thor balls his hand into a fist under the table. He shifts and feels Mjolnir hidden at his feet as a comfort.

“Don’t worry, we have the antidote, remember?” Fandral says quietly. His expression is dark though, as he watches the man press the glass on the already swaying woman.

A few minutes - and another full glass of the drugged wine - later, the man is half-supporting the woman out of the tavern. She stumbles on the step.

“Two minutes,” Sif whispers. “We follow in two minutes.” There’s a tracking device in Thor’s pocket. They will not escape.

The two minutes crawl by in silence. Even Sif starts bouncing her leg nervously.

“Now,” Thor says. “Let’s go.”

The three of them rise and swiftly move out of the tavern. Through the winding streets of the capital, they track their prey. Thor once catches a glimpse of their quarry; the man is now carrying the woman, limp in his arms.

Thor feels a flash of righteous fury. Storm clouds gather overhead.

They are led through the streets of the city to a secret door in the walls.

“What took you so long?” A rough voice says. Thor motions and they flatten themselves against the wall.

“She took a second glass to go down, she’s powerful,” The man says. “She will fetch a high price.”

“Good. Get her in the wagon, I’ll ready the bindings. We’ll meet the others at the river bridge.”

A third voice. “And we might have time to sample the goods before we sell her off. Pretty thing.”

_River bridge_. Thor knows exactly where they’re talking about. The Alfheim authorities had already been suspicious of that bridge, been watching it, but they’d never been able to confirm the slavers made use of it. He makes eye contact with Sif and nods.

She draws her sword with a smile.

Even missing three of their usual number, the fight is quick. Sif and Fandral take care of the cutthroats. Thor drops the man they had been tracking and catches the limp body of the woman in his arms before she can drop to the ground.

He takes her quickly out of the fray, spreading his cape out on the ground to lay her on. She’s not quite unconscious but senseless, blinking up unseeing into the sun. Thor takes the bottle of antidote out of his pocket and soaks a cloth with it. He wraps one hand around the back of her delicate neck to hold her still and presses the cloth against her nose and mouth with the other.

She struggles weakly for a moment, before the vapor hits her lungs. Her eyes clear of murkiness and focus on his face.

He gives her a half smile. “You can change back now. We’ve got you.” The corners of her eyes crinkle like she’s smiling behind the cloth. Her form ripples and shifts into the far more familiar shape of his brother.

Loki reaches up to grip his wrist to keep the cloth in place, sucking in a big breath of the filtered air. “Breathe,” Thor says. “You’re safe now.” The poison cleared from his system, he releases Thor’s arm and sits up.

“Have you got them?”

Thor nods. “The three within the city, and their transport.”

“Good. I can use a tracking spell on the wagon, and we can use it to sneak up on them.”

“They said they were meeting at the river bridge - remember that one they were watching?”

“Yes, good. Perfect. They’ll never see us coming.” Loki smiles wickedly. “I do wish I had been coherent enough to see the chivalrous rage you no doubt worked yourself into, brother.” Thor offers him a hand up and he takes it. “I’ll have to have Fandral recount it for me.”

“Fandral was no less affected, you know how he is with the virtue of a beautiful maiden. Even if it’s just you in disguise. You might get a good story out of Sif, though.”

Loki still wavers a bit when he’s on his feet. “Just a head rush.” He closes his eyes for a moment and then shakes off Thor’s steadying hand.

They rejoin Sif and Fandral, who have bound their prisoners at their feet.

“I should have known,” The man who’d taken Loki from the tavern says with a laugh.

Loki gives him a scathing look. “How could you possibly have known?”

“Known that the prince of Asgard is a shapeshifter? Common knowledge, your highness. Or that Asgard would eventually come for us? Now that was only logical.” He leans forward. “You really were beautiful back there. And I will tell you both everything.”

“Giving in so quickly, are you?”

“You _fool_ ,” One of the others hisses. “How dare-”

“I’ll tell you _everything_. Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other,” He says with a wink.

The princes exchange a look. “Alright. Let’s talk,” Thor says.

He spills everything, just as he said he would. At the end he shifts in his bonds. “So how about you help me out in return? I’ll be in the wind, and I swear I’ll never dabble in the trade again.”

Thor looks back to Loki, who merely shrugs. He turns back to their prisoner. “How many have you sold?”

“I couldn’t possibly count-”

“How many have you raped before you sold them?” The prisoner does not answer. “Would you have raped her?” Anger is growing in him. A drumbeat thunders in his ear and he can already imagine the smell of blood in the air, as thick as the scent of ozone building-

“Father wants them alive to stand trial,” Loki reminds him in a sing-song voice.

Thor stuffs down the fury and smiles viciously. “You’re very lucky my brother is better at listening to our father than I am. Because I would have slain you where you sat. Fandral!” He calls. “Take him to the others. Make sure their chains are secure.”

“I’ll do you one better, I’ll make sure they’re uncomfortable to boot.” Fandral drags the prisoner up. “Sif’s already summoned Hogun and Volstagg, they’ll be waiting for us with reinforcements on the other side of the river.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

 

“Fine, I’ll ask,” Loki says as they’re riding side by side towards the river. “What’s gotten into you?” Thor shoots him a look. “You’re in a mood.”

“Am I not _allowed_ to be in a mood?” He snaps.

“What? It’s just breaking up some illegal slave trading. All of the realms have dabbled in mage-slaves, it’s practically a requirement for winning wars nowadays-”

“This isn’t just about mage-slaves.”

“What then, was it the kidnapping that offends you? The drugging? You’d prefer it if the practice was just limited to the mages who sold themselves into slavery to pay off a debt, or lost their freedom in gambling halls, or were given up by greedy family members-”

“Loki.”

“This has always happened, brother. We only care now because these ones got bold and started kidnapping people who mattered.”

“ _Loki._ ” Thor sighs. “It’s not just…no, you’re right. There are far more that are forgotten than are cared about. When I am king-”

“You’ll find it harder to root out than you imagine.”

Thor tightens his grip on the reins of his horse. He can feel his face heating. “Loki, I do not understand why you _insist_ on _arguing_ with me-”

“I was right, wasn’t I?” Loki laughs. “You did work yourself into quite the chivalrous rage. It’s the _raping_ that bother you. The way they use their captives for pleasure, not just their magic. Or, likely both, magic’s quite the delicacy in certain circles.”

Thor glowers at him. Loki must see something deeper in his face because he drops the mocking smile. “I was barely in any danger. You were right there.”

“And if something had gone wrong?”

“A risk I took when I proposed this plan.” The smile returns, easy and carefree. In hindsight, it was the kind of confident smile that one can affect only when they have no idea what could possibly come in the future. The arrogant smile of a prince who believed he would never be truly in any peril. “He wouldn’t have had me, ludicrous to think the likes of him could have overpowered me.”

“Ah yes, you were so powerful, when you willingly let yourself be drugged into oblivion-”

“Highnesses! We’re coming up on their encampment.”

 

The battle is short lived. No small slaving operation could stand the might of even just one column of Asgardian warriors.

What they find afterwards has even Loki turning gray.

It had not been quite as small a slaving operation as they thought.

By the time they return to Asgard they are all bone weary, drained, and near sick. They bring the surviving prisoners to the dungeons to await trial and all return to their homes, seeking the comfort of warmth and familiarity.

“I cannot wait to hug my children and kiss my wife. Remember there’s a bit of joy in the world,” Volstagg says as they finish in the dungeons, a summary of all their sentiments. They all murmur in agreement.

Loki slips into Thor’s chambers late that night and crawls into his bed for the first time in years - decades perhaps. In contrast to his cavalier attitude while they were riding to battle, he is grave and haunted in the darkness, seeking Thor’s presence for comfort.

“What about the ones they had sold?” He whispers, half to himself.

“We’ve given what information we had to the relevant authorities. Hopefully they can track down as many as they can. We can’t be chasing slaves across the Nine.”

“Of course not,” Loki scoffs. In the dim light though, Thor can see his mouth set into a deep frown. “I just can’t stop…I can’t stop thinking about…about those…about how they bound…their _raving-_ ”

“But we’re home now,” Thor says quickly, half to stop Loki’s train of thought and half to comfort himself. “We’re safe.”

And they are, tucked into the palace with its many walls, many layered security spells, guards. They drift off to sleep, assured of their absolute safety. Many others could not say the same. The thought does haunt both princes, but they are lulled by the safety and familiarity of home, and the power of their stations, to truly care. By the end of the week, the traffickers of mage-slaves are put from their heads by another adventure, and then another. They do not think of them for a long time.

 

 

  
  
_Present_

 

“What about there?” Bruce points at the chart. “Our flightpath already takes us past.”

“No,” The Valkyrie says quickly. Too quickly. “That is a _terrible_ idea.” They all turn to look at her.

“Okaaay,” Bruce says after a moment. “Are you going to explain why?”

The Valkyrie huffs. “Zaton is…not a pleasant place. In a way not unlike Sakaar.”

“What, a slave planet?” Thor asks.

“Yup. Got it’s own version of the Contest too.” She opens a bottle and takes a swig.

Bruce shivers. “Are there a lot of planets like this?” The Valkyrie shrugs.

“Too many,” Thor says darkly.

“There’s an added bit of annoyance,” She says. “The leader was once an acolyte of the Grandmaster.”

“Really?” Thor says. “I didn’t think the Grandmaster had _ex_ -acolytes.”

“Only the true favorites. The real crazy assholes. The ones who lasted, the true sociopaths. I never really knew this one. He was off on his own long before I worked my way into the Grandmaster’s inner circle. Came to visit occasionally. I never met him, but, you know Sakaar, rumors spread.” Valkyrie hits two buttons and an image appears next to the planet stats. “That’s him, Karos.”

“Oh,” Loki says. He’d been standing by the windows, suspiciously silent through this conversation, but now he comes to stand next to the display, coloring a little at the picture projected. “Oh, that’s…” He clears his throat. “I know him.”

Thor turns to him with a raised brow. “Know him?”

“Came to visit. Stayed…a few nights…” He trails off. Loki’s not looking at Thor. Something unpleasant churns in his stomach. “So obviously, this planet is out of question. He’ll recognize me and know something is amiss. It’s a danger we can’t risk.”

“Of course not,” Thor says quietly.

“How many slaves do you think are down there?” Bruce asks.

Valkyrie shrugs. “A lot.” She looks across the display at Loki. “You know what they are?” He nods tightly.

“What? What are they down there? I don’t get it…Thor?”

Thor shrugs in response to Bruce’s inquiry.

“They’re mage-slaves,” Loki answers.

“…I’m assuming that’s exactly what it sounds like?” Bruce says.

Thor nods. “Mages, sorcerers, witches - bound in servitude. They use their powers at their master’s command and for their own desires. The practice varies from place to place - usually a wartime practice. It can be…can be quite brutal.”

“That seems…yikes.”

Loki shrugs. “It happens. Though I will admit, since Karos learned his statecraft from the Grandmaster I think we’d all know roughly what to expect.”

“Karos wasn’t a mage himself - learned some charms and potions, but never held the magic himself,” The Valkyrie says. “Made up for it by being…particularly fascinated by them. Or at least that’s what the rumors said. Once he had his leeway from the Grandmaster, he set up his own contest. Except where the Grandmaster liked to watch brute strength-”

“He likes to watch mages slaughter each other with their magic,” Loki finishes. “I met him when he came to Sakaar to…to see if the Grandmaster had any that would excel in his contest. I was too…there was no one who the Grandmaster was willing to let go then, but it was implied he’d given some over before.”

The possibility that Loki could have been sold from Sakaar to this new planet before he arrived had not occurred to him. He has a slow, horrifying realization of how close them had come to being separated forever.

“Yikes,” Bruce says. “So what? We’re just going to leave it like that?”

“Too risky,” Heimdall says. “We can’t save everyone. We’ll find a new destination.”

Loki still won’t look at Thor. He looks pale and shies away when Thor tries to touch his shoulder. It makes him deeply nervous.

 

But several hours later, dread of the planet is gone from their heads. Their course is set to a trading planet not far off and Thor is discussing supplies with Loki, who no longer seems as tense. Things are back to normal, the little blip in their day over.

“We’re getting low on funds, we’ll need to either sell off some of the excess, or our skills. Though after our discussion of mage-slaves I’m sure no one really wants to see us sell our magic.” Loki’s reading numbers on a pad. “We’re fine with food, but we’ll likely need to replace four fuel cells in the next month and we’re getting away from people being sympathetic to our-”

There’s a grinding shudder. Loki stumbles against him and Thor has to catch him.

“What was that?” He cries as he rights Loki.

Loki gives him a wry smile. “I think perhaps the draining of our last funds.”

“Not funny, brother. Come, we should check with Heimdall.” Thor leads the way towards the bridge. They barely make it to the hallway before the ship tilts violently and Thor has to catch the doorframe to keep from plunging down the hall. Loki slides towards him and Thor wraps his arm around his middle. Loki, looking a little gray, grabs Thor’s arms and green light flashes, then they’re on the bridge.

“What happened?”

“We hit something,” Heimdall says. “We’ve taken some damage, the stabilizers are out.”

“We have to land, what’s the closest-” Thor glances at the chart. “Oh.”

“We have to land,” Heimdall agrees firmly. “We’ll take what comes next as it happens.”

“So we land on Zaton,” Loki says. Thor glances at him. “It seems as though we have no choice.”

“What about Karos? You said-”

“We have no other choice, Thor!” Loki cries. “We’ll never make it to the next inhabited planet.”  

“Fine, hail them.”

Heimdall nods.

Thor holds out his hand. “Val and Bruce were in the bar.” Loki nods and teleports them there.

“What the _fuck!_ ” The Valkyrie cries as they materializes in their midst.

“Are we crashing?” Bruce is taking deep, even breaths, stuffing the Hulk forcefully down.

“We hit something, stabilizers are damaged. We’re having to make an emergency landing on Zaton.”

The Valkyrie pales. “Okay. Shit. What do we do?”

“Is there a chance he’s going to recognize you?”

She shakes her head. “I doubt it. He was living on Sakaar long before I got into the real Scrapper game, I never saw him, he never saw me.”

“And he’s not going to know me, just the Big Guy.”

“So it’s just me.” Loki frowns. “I’d say I’d just hide among the people, but…”

“Too big a risk,” The Valkyrie agrees.

“And I won’t be able to help you navigate this world if I squirrel away among the commoners.”

Thor rubs his beard. “And he knows for sure that you’re a mage? That you were with the Grandmaster?”

Loki nods. “The Grandmaster liked to show off.”

“Does he know you’re a shapeshifter?” Thor asks. “Could you shift your form?”

There’s something odd and guarded in Loki’s expression, but he nods. “I can do that. I did not change my form in front of him, just some cantrips and illusions, he wouldn’t necessarily be aware…”

It comes to Thor in a flash. “A raven. Everyone knew of father’s ravens, we could pretend one of them survived, there won’t be many questions.” The ship shudders violently again.

“We don’t have much time to decide,” Bruce says. “I think that was us entering their atmosphere.”

“Fine. A raven,” Loki agrees.

“Can you get us back to the bridge? We need to inform the people.”

There’s still something odd in Loki’s expression, but he reaches out for Thor and teleports them back to Heimdall on the bridge.

“They’ve accepted our request for emergency landing, your majesty,” Heimdall says. “Have you thought of a plan?”

“Yes,” Thor says, bracing himself on the rail. He picks up the microphone to the intercom and prepares to address the ship. “And we’ll have to pray it works.”

 

Thor is fine. He is fine, never been more fine. He’s not being crushed under the pressure of being king of a refugee people. He keeps telling himself that, keeps running it over and over in his head, whispering it to himself when he struggles to go back to sleep at night. _He is fine_. He can take care of everyone, he can shepherd them through the cosmos towards their new home. He can care for his brother, his last family, who seems more himself but more fragile than he’s ever been before. He can help the Valkyrie, returned to her people, haunted by past pain that sends her back to the bottle. He can guide Bruce through the odd experience of a mortal traveling among Asgardians.

He protects his people, sees to the upkeep and safety of the ship. He can soothe Loki back to sleep after a nightmare. He can carry the Valkyrie back to bed once she’s drunk herself unconscious, explain everything to Bruce. He can do it.

And he can deal with his own problems. He just needs to wait until his heart settles at night, shake away the dregs of nightmares. He is fine. He doesn’t need help dealing with all the things that haunt him: his mother, his father, Loki's two deaths, being thrown from the bifrost only to fall on Sakaar, the destruction of his home world, the deaths of his friends. Nearly a millennium and a half of bad memories, that was all.

And now, he will guard his brother in the form of the raven, protect his people from the horrors of the darker realities of the universe, ensure this Karos never finds out any of them ever set foot on Sakaar. He will do this while smiling and mingling and fitting in to this despotic planet.

He’s fine.

 

They’re waiting on the gangplank. Heimdall and Bruce have hung back - Heimdall to take care of the people, and Bruce to supervise the repairs. Loki’s standing next to the Valkyrie, fidgeting like there’s something bothering him.

“So do you think I was one of the true sociopaths?” Loki’s voice is almost too quiet to hear. Thor’s heart sinks. “If Thor hadn’t appeared, I would have become like Karos?” He asks with affected lightness. The Valkyrie is quiet for a long moment, studying him.

“No,” She finally says. “In all honesty, highness, you were already starting to show the wear.”

“Show the wear? I was planning on overthrowing him and taking his place, I-”

“Loki. Just trust me. You weren’t going to last much longer. Because you’re not actually a sociopath. As much as you try to bury it down, I know you don’t like to watch people suffering.” They’re quiet for another moment. Loki absentmindedly tracing a circle on his palm with the opposite thumb. “And you _were_ suffering. You were hurting, your highness, and you wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

Loki’s expression hardens. “I have survived far worse, my lady Valkyrie,” He spits. “Not that it is any of your business.” He takes two long strides away from her and on the third transforms into a raven, flapping his wings and landing on Thor’s shoulder.

“That went well,” She mutters.

Thor gives Loki a weak, uncertain smile and strokes the shining black feathers on his chest. That uneasy feeling is back, along with his fears of the unspoken things that have happened to his brother. Another to add to the never-ending list.

The Valkyrie steps in line with Thor.

“Don’t take it personally,” he says.

“I didn’t,” she responds. “Are you ready for this?”

“Probably not.”

The ship is guided down to the emergency landing dock, and supported in place. The doors open to reveal their welcoming party.

Karos is younger than Thor would have imagined, though they hadn’t been able to narrow down his species so his exact age is impossible to guess. He has dark hair and very pale eyes and his smile would have been friendly if Thor hadn’t know what he was. His features are sharp and he is well dressed, accompanied by several servants and a large guard bearing a staff.

Loki shifts on his shoulder. The feathers on his wings brush Thor’s ear.

“Welcome, welcome! I am Karos, the leader of this planet. I am so sorry about the accident, your majesty, was anyone hurt? We are happy to provide medical care-”

“Very fortunately, no one was injured in the crash.” Thor affects a gracious smile. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Anything for the King of Asgard! I had long wished to visit the golden realm, I was very sorry to hear of its destruction.”

“Thank you.”

“It is _such_ a travesty. But so much has survived, including…is that one of Odin’s ravens?” Karos sounds highly impressed. “My, my.” He approaches, studying Loki. “Which is it…they were named Thought and Memory, were they not?”

“Yes, Hugin and Munin, in our language.”

“So which? Can you tell…?”

Thor looks at Loki for a long moment. “Munin,” He finally says. “Memory.”

“Ah,” Karos says. “We’ll be happy to provide a perch for your magnificent bird,” Karos reaches forward to pet Loki’s - Munin’s - feathers. Thor has to hold himself very still to stop himself from lashing out to get Karos away.

He smiles. “Of course. It is appreciated.”

“And you will be staying with us, of course! I am deeply honored to host the King of Asgard.”

Thor had had a flicker of hope he’d be staying with the ship, but the invitation cannot be refused. “Thank you. My closest advisor will stay with the people as supervision, but myself and the Valkyrie would be happy to take up your invitation.”

“Ah, a Valkyrie,” He looks at her, awed. And, more importantly, does not seem to recognize her at all. Thor relaxes a little. “Wonderful. I’m sure you don’t want to carry this thing around all day, we will have someone show you to-” Loki evidently has had enough and snaps at Karos’s hand. He jerks back in surprise, annoyance flashing on his face. In another second it’s gone, and he chuckles. “They will show you both to your rooms to drop off your…your things and this magnificent creature, and then please join me for a late breakfast in my private suite.”

Thor’s smile is strained. “Thank you.”

“I will see you soon then! I do hope you don’t get lost. I’ll send someone to fetch you to be sure.”

Thor nods. Karos waves a hand and two servants bow and bade him to follow. The Valkyrie gives him a bit of an alarmed look as she is led off to her own quarters, but he shakes his head at her.

The suite they give him is comfortable, with a wide bed, floor to ceiling windows, and, as promised, a perch. Karos’s color scheme is more muted than the Grandmaster’s but no less clashing.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, Loki springs from his shoulder and changes back to his usual form.

“Thor, what are you doing?” He says in a hurried whisper.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m playing along, that’s what you said for us to do to get past this-”

“Yes, but I was supposed to be there to _help_ , you can’t do this on your own-”

“Loki, how exactly were you going to help me as a raven?” Loki huffs and hits his chest. “ _Ow_ -”

“That’s not the point, I was supposed to, to _supervise_ -”

“Well, you’re going to stay here, and stay as a raven, and be _safe_ -”

“Thor, you can’t just-”

There’s a rap on the door and they silence. “Your majesty, Karos sent me to escort you to the dining hall.”

“Change back,” Thor mouths at Loki. With a final look of annoyed defiance, Loki shifts and lands on his forearm. “Just a moment,” Thor calls through the door.

Loki’s claws dig a little _too_ hard into his skin as he walks to the perch. “Stay here, stay quiet. It will be alright. I’ll come to check on you as soon as I can.” Loki croaks unhappily and Thor can almost hear his voice. “Yes, I will be careful. Promise.” He sets Loki on the perch and ruffles his feathers. He gets a snap in return.

The servant is waiting patiently for him in the hall and shows no sign of having heard anything odd. He bows low and shows Thor to the dining room, where the Valkyrie is already waiting.

 

The breakfast passes quite normally. Karos asks polite questions about their travels and their struggles that Thor does his best to answer without strain. The Valkyrie doesn’t try. She stays quiet and uninterested in the conversation, watching the others with sharp eyes.

The way things are similar to Sakaar are immediately apparent. Thor did not have the pleasure of spending much time in the tower, but he’d seen enough to recognize it. Karos is constantly the center of attention, surrounded by well dressed courtiers who glare at each other and bicker when his back is turned. The servants are all wearing a brass colored bracelet, obviously a means of control like the discs. Many of them show signs of magical power. People talk of the competition to be held the next night.

The servants are clearing plates when Karos mentions magic for the first time. “It’s a shame that all that wonderful knowledge has been lost. Such a tragedy. None of your mages or scholars survived?”

Thor shakes his head. “Unfortunately they were among the first to put up a struggle against Hela and were quickly killed.”

“And…your brother?”

The polite smile drops off Thor’s face. “Gone. Survived, but I know not where he is. Our paths…our paths diverged a long time ago. I have not seen him in some time and I cannot guess where in the universe he might be.”

“Pity. I’d heard good things. Loki of Asgard had quite a formidable reputation.” Karos has a sort of wistful expression on his face that makes something unpleasant stir in Thor’s gut. When Karos’s back is turned, he and the Valkyrie exchange a look.

Things don’t get really weird until the afternoon. The party is, by the Valkyrie’s assertion, not unlike the parties on Sakaar. There’s a lot of booze, which they are both careful to moderate their consumption of, light snacks, and the mingling of the upper classes of society on this planet, those that had benefited from Karos’s authority.

He insists that Thor sit by him, as a guest of honor.

There is one odd moment. Another guest in the party, stumbles in from the hall, looking ill. A man Thor recognizes from earlier in the day follows him in, quite obviously fixing his clothes with a sly grin. The first man stays to the edges of the room and when he raises a shaking hand to his fist, Thor sees a band on his wrist, the same that adorns the wrists of the servants. A sour feeling churns in his stomach.

Karos is talking his ear off about the competition. Thor is trying not to listen, easier than it appeared; the petty tyrant did not seem to need his input to continue talking.

“…it’s a great honor, of course, just to participate, our competitors are thoroughly vetted and trained…”

One of the servants stumbles into Thor and he catches him. His hand just brushes the cuff on his arm - it sends a jolt through him and Thor abruptly drops him, making him fall into a servant carrying a massive tray of crystal wine glasses. The glasses shatter on the marble floor.

The shadow passes over Karos’s face. “Wretch!” He grabs the servant whose stumble caused the accident.

“Master, I’m sorry, I-”

“You have been rude to our guest! You have broken glasses. This is…this is…”

“Please, master, I’m so sorry.”

“ _Unconscionable_. I just don’t think you’re _ready_ for this kind of responsibility. I thought you were,” He shakes his head. “But I just don’t know. I have to be able to _trust_ you.”

“Please don’t send me back down there, please-”

“It was my fault, more than anything,” Thor interjects. He balls his hand into a fist - it still stings from contact with the cuff. He knows for sure now it is the cuffs that are binding the slaves’ powers. His magic is not as fine-tuned as a true mage’s power, but it still reacts poorly to contact with the bonds.

“Nonsense, he should know better. Send him back down to the mistress until he is ready for more responsibility.”

“No, no, master!” One of Karos’s guards drags him away.

Dinner and mingling recommences, and everyone quickly forgets the disturbance. Thor’s heart is beating fast. The Valkyrie appears at his side.

“Is something wrong?”

The mask settles back onto Karos’s face. He gives her a smile. “Nothing, nothing at all! Just a tiny little accident. Someone just needs a little correction. But come, my friend Telis over here has the most marvelous gifts. Telis, show them your power-”

The Valkyrie glances at Thor and he nods. She stays close to him, watching suspiciously, for the rest of the night.

 

When Thor’s finally released from socializing, it’s dark outside. There’s a standing invitation for a further party, the lights dipping low and the drink flowing, but he begs exhaustion and flees.

He has seen enough.

Thor reenters his suite, closing and firmly locking the door behind him.

“It’s locked,” He says to the raven, sitting on his perch. “You can change back now. I brought food.” The raven caws, inclining his head towards the window. The curtains. “Loki, we are thirty stories up. No one’s going to-” He caws more insistently. Thor sighs, but does as he is bid. The city lights are cut off, plunging the room into semi-darkness. Thor turns on the lamps, which provide a soft glow, and sets the stolen plate of food on the bed. Loki spreads his wings and springs from his perch, landing unsteadily on the carpet as a man.

He stumbles for the water jug first.

“Are you alright?” Thor asks, watching as Loki gulps water.

He nods. “It was a long day, waiting for you to return.”

Thor winces. “I apologize, brother,” He says. “I returned as soon as I could.” Loki turns to the food, scarfing down the scraps quickly. “You’re hungry.”

“Maintaining the shift takes energy,” Loki says between bites. “Energy that I cannot replenish, given the physiology of the raven compared to my own. I’m _starving_.”

Thor quietly watches him eat for a while.

“May I ask you something?”

Loki looks at him warily. “What?”

“It’s an observation, really. This is the most I’ve seen you shapeshift since…” He doesn’t have to say what he means, they both know. “I’ve just realized. You used to all the time. But I can’t think of a time since when I’ve seen you outside your usual form.”

Loki stops eating. “Do you want me to be honest?”

“I always want you to be honest with me.”

“And yet, I so rarely am,” Loki says with a rakish smile. It falls away quickly. “You’re right. I haven’t shifted my form much. It wasn’t…it wasn’t _quite_ the fall. Before. On Jotunheim.” Thor furrows his brow but says nothing, giving him the space to continue. Loki takes a deep breath. “I’d never been forced to change my form before. That was the first time, when the Jotun grabbed my arm and I felt myself change without intending to. And later, in the vaults, touching the Casket did the same. I liked the power wielding the Casket gave me, but I disliked the way it changed my form. It felt…wrong. Out of my control. After that…shifting lost its shine, I suppose.” He shrugs.

Thor finds it all a little sad and says so. “I just remember how much you used to do it, like breathing. It was a part of you, ‘oh, Loki’s a snake again, Loki’s a cat.’ I’d gotten so used to it. Once you stopped using it to trick me.”

Loki doesn’t look at him. “Yes, well. I suppose being _forced_ to do it takes some of the comfort away.” A few minutes of silence pass between them, as Loki eats.

“You don’t have to answer this, brother,” Thor says carefully. “But were there…were their other times, other people who forced you?”

“You’re only going to make yourself angry, if you keep asking questions along this line of thought.”

“Loki…”

“Yes. _Yes_ , alright?” Loki snaps. “Thanos did a few times, he was fascinated by my…my true form. The others on Sanctuary saw the opportunity for new torments. That was when I swore never to stray from my usual shape again. Though clearly,” He hitches in an unsteady breath. “I calmed down from that. But it took a while, to not feel…disgusted by the thought of changing my shape. So no, I never used that particular talent in New York, or later on Asgard, or Svartalfheim.”

“And Sakaar?” There is a tense pause.

“What have you seen here?” Loki asks. “What happened?”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does, if you’re making assumptions-”

“Then dispute them. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Loki looks away. “I assume this place is even worse than Sakaar, given Karos’s particular fascination with mages. But yes, the Grandmaster also had the ability…and the sheer power…to force me to shift.” He folds his arms across his chest. “And I knew he had that power, to force the transformation without my consent, and I didn’t want to feel like that again, so I just gave in. Most of the time. There was one night I was…I was unwilling to do what he asked so he did…but that doesn’t matter, what brought this-”

Thor abruptly stands and throws the empty glass bottle against the wall. Loki jumps at the sound of it shattering. Thor stands, panting, barely stuffing down the red fury, built up through the day.

“I told you you were only going to make yourself angry,” Loki says quietly.

“What he did to you…I can’t imagine…” Thor casts about for something else to break, but there is nothing so he punches the wall instead. “I would never have left Sakaar, if I had known…that he put his hands on you…I would never have left him alive, I would have—”

“What? Kill him?” Loki laughs bitterly. “You can’t kill him, Thor! You can’t, he’s more powerful that you can even imagine.” Loki comes to him, placing himself between Thor and the rest of the room. “You would have gotten yourself killed, in the foolish quest to avenge me-”

“Foolish!?”

“It would have been folly,” Loki says again. “That’s how these places _work_ , Thor. Surely you’ve seen that for yourself now. Sakaar had two hells - the fighting pits, and the Grandmaster’s tower. There was no refusing him and there is no vengeance to be had against him. Our only hope now is to extricate ourselves from _this_ planet as soon as possible.” Thor wants to wrap his arms around his brother, but can’t bring himself to do it, can’t help but feel like it’s forcing him to do something he doesn’t want.

“I think of what he did to you, and I can’t help wanting to tear him apart.” He makes an aborted motion, pulling back at the last second. Loki closes the gap, grabbing his hand.

“I know. That’s why I didn’t tell you.” Loki looks uncertain, a muscle in his cheek twitching. He guides Thor’s hands to its typical place, wrapped around the back of his neck. “I am sorry.”

“You have _nothing_ to be ashamed of,” Thor says.

Loki twitches again. “Don’t I?”

Thor shakes his head, taking a steadying breath, trying to control his anger. “No.” He drops his forehead to Loki’s. “No. Not for that. They took advantage of your gifts. They twisted them, and hurt you, and made you feel it was your fault because of what you are. That is _despicable_. That is _deranged_ , and if I could I _would_ destroy them-”

“Stop it,” Loki begs and he does. Thor pulls him closer, into an embrace. Loki squirms after a minute but Thor holds tighter.

“Just let me…just-” There must be something in his voice that convinces Loki, because he settles, wordlessly letting Thor hold him.

Their quiet is interrupted by Loki’s stomach growling. They both chuckle and pull back.

“Sorry, brother, that I couldn’t bring you more.”

“It’s nothing, just a minor inconvenience.” Loki sits back on the bed. “Now, have you calmed enough to tell me what happened?”

Thor shoots him a look, but tells him, putting in as much detail as he can. When he finishes, Loki is looking thoughtful, brow furrowing. His finger taps his lips.

“This Karos truly seems the Grandmaster’s pupil. And you saw nothing about his little contest?”

“Nothing yet. Tomorrow night.”

“You did fairly well. Try not to advocate too much for the servants in future, you don’t want to appear weak. Don’t look at me like that, you don’t have to be mean to them, you just have to act like they don’t exist, like we used to, and pretend whatever cruelty Karos is inflicting on them isn’t happening. Look away, go somewhere else in your mind if you have to.”

Thor scrubs his hand over his beard. “Easy for you to say.” A look of hurt flashes across Loki’s face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well. Nonetheless. Pretend to be cold, bitter me, if you have to.”

“Loki…” Thor sighs. “That’s not what I meant.”

Loki hums. “I do have a question.”

“Yes?”

Loki cocks his head at him. “Why did you choose Munin? Why memory? I saw you thinking about it, hesitating. Why memory and not thought, when I am clearly the brains of this family?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Loki shakes his head. Thor sits next to him. “I almost said Hugin, yes. You’re far cleverer than I, your mind works in…impressive, if sometimes disturbing ways. But Loki…I have so few memories without you. More than anyone, more than Asgard itself, you’re my home. And that’s why I said memory.”

Loki just looks at him, expression painfully open. Thor feels overwhelmed by the fondness in his heart. He gives him a small smile and Loki returns it. The momentary spell is broken.

“You needn’t get so sentimental, brother.” Loki flops back against the mattress.

“What do you think happened to the real ravens?”

“I know not, they were fickle creatures. Hated me. I’ve no idea if they were on Asgard when it was destroyed.”

Thor sits beside him. “Well, we can only hope that they’re out there and we’ll find them someday. But for now, I suppose you’ll have to do.”

Loki throws a pillow at him.

 

In the dream, Thor stands in the middle of the arena, feeling a bloodlust receding. A red fog clears from his eyes. Before him lies corpses, thousands of them. He looks at his hands and they are coated with blood.

“Behold, the champion of the contest!” The Grandmaster’s voice, echoing across the stands. The crowd roars.

Thor can’t breathe. He feels sick. He’s starting to recognize the style of the clothes on the corpses, the shapes of the crumpled bodies. A raven caws.

“Now, time to come in for the night, my dear champion.”

Thor wants to protest, but his tongue is frozen. He can only growl at the faceless Sakaaran guards that surround him. He is nothing but a mute beast, no king, no brother, no friend. Chains from the guards fly out to pin his limbs, wrap around his chest, drive him to his knees. The obedience disk activates, sending a shock through his body-

 

-he jerks awake in bed, heart pounding. He can barely catch his breath.

He calms, slowly, in the darkness of the unfamiliar room. They’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, Loki still in his usual form. He has not woken, even with Thor’s jostling.

Thor sighs, the foggy threads of the dream quickly fading. He carefully gets up and goes to the window, looking out onto the glittering city.

A beast, that’s how he’d felt, in the dream. Worn down to base urges, rage, a thing that would hurt the people he was supposed to protect. A thing to be caged, held in chains until it was time to unleash the monster.

It takes a long time to feel himself enough to go back to sleep. He crawls back into bed, taking an extra blanket to tuck around them. Loki stirs a bit, but settles quickly.

 

He’s woken in the morning by Loki, using his chest to push himself up with a gasp.

“You should have woken me!” He hisses. “I shouldn’t have slept like this, it’s late, I could have been seen.”

Thor grabs his wrist before he can flee. “You weren’t.”

“That’s not the point, I could have been-”

“Thank you for staying,” Thor says quietly. “I needed it.”

Loki looks uncomfortable, like he doesn’t know how to process being needed, or that Thor has admitted to needing him. “Well. Alright. You’re welcome then, brother.” He sits on the edge of the bed. “You should go. It’s nearly midmorning, someone might come for you.”

Thor groans. “I am not looking forward to this.”

“You’re not looking forward to this? I’m stuck as a raven, do you have any idea how _boring_ that is?”

“It will be over soon, brother. As soon as the ship’s fixed, we’ll leave this horrible place behind.” And that moment can not come soon enough.

Karos is not present at breakfast, having apparently had quite the late night. Thor has a limited amount of freedom so, ditching the servants who try to follow, he slips out of the tower and explores the city.

It is shockingly like Sakaar - a busy marketplace with a good deal of working class shopkeepers. The lack of trash heaps and scavengers is a plus, but Zaton quickly makes up for it with the sheer number of brothels and other seedy establishments. The mages, even the ones manning magic shops and apothecaries, all wear the golden cuffs that mark them as bound by Karos. Thor tests one, in a magic shop. He ‘accidentally’ brushes up against the shopkeeper and has to disguise a jolt of pain.

He apologizes to the shopkeeper, who merely smiles in confusion back, and quickly leaves. It’s a confirmation that Karos’s reach is not limited to the tower, to his servants and slaves in the contest.

He returns to the tower and nearly goes back up to the top without another thought, but hesitates on the stair. He can almost hear Loki’s voice in his head, imploring him not to do this, but he ignores it.

He descends the staircase and has to duck into an alcove to avoid two well-dressed figures coming up towards him.

“…another slaughter last night, that sorcerer from the outer rim finally lost it.”

“They’ll be cleaning up the blood all day. Meanwhile, Karos keeps sending the servants back for the slightest infractions. Not that I’m complaining, but we’re quick using up our stock of drug and they always come back to us so _frenzied_.”

“But some of your clients like that, no? I heard the man who was sent down last night made quite a killing…”

The pair passes. Thor makes it another dozen or so steps down before he hears it. The familiar sounds of a mass of people, imprisoned. Clattering, yelling, moaning. Half of it is probably in his imagination, conjured ghosts of the traffickers on Alfheim or the pits of Sakaar, but still he retreats.

Loki’s voice in his head is relieved.

 

Karos reappears in the afternoon, and again has Thor sit with him at the high table.

“I just have a _bit_ of business to deal with before we get down to having fun, I’m afraid. Nothing much, I’m sure you understand, your majesty. Ruling a planet, ah, it’s not all fun and games.”

“Of course not,” Thor says absently, thinking of Loki in the suite, hoping he was safe. “It’s no problem.”

And he thinks it is, until he realizes what exactly the ‘business’ was.

“Bring them forward. Yes, yes. I think the one on the end would do very well in the arena, don’t you think?” Karos remarks to the adviser on his other side.

They are shackled together, five prisoners brought forward. Karos interrogates each one, while Thor feels tense and sick. Glancing across the party, he sees that the Valkyrie is also frozen, watching with sharp eyes. When their eyes meet, she shakes her head slightly. He grits his teeth.

Two of them had lost their freedom in the gambling halls on Knowhere. Two were caught up in a war in a nearby system. One had been a mage-slave already with the Kree for five years. Karos is particularly pleased with him. He’s already scarred and grim, staring down Karos with determination.

“Very, _very_ good. I’ve been waiting for him. He’s been looking to sell his contract to us for some time, we finally got the Kree to agree to sell. Chance of fame and fortune here, if he makes it far enough. Not like the gross brutality of the Kree wars. He’ll be absolutely _wonderful_ in the arena.”

There’s a young woman on the end, one of the ones who had been captured as a prisoner of war. She keeps her eyes on the floor, a curtain of dark hair hiding her face. Karos’s gaze lingers on her. “Beautiful,” He says. “She will do well.” He looks at her with hunger in his eyes. The girl sniffles, her breath hitching. She’s crying.

The new slaves are led away, to cells that probably look quite a bit like Sakaar. Thor’s mouth is very dry.

He manages to excuse himself not long after, slipping into the hallway. The Valkyrie follows him.

“What are you doing?” She hisses.

“I can’t just _sit_ here and watch-” His heart is pounding in his chest, a sick churning in his stomach. He can’t seem to catch his breath.

“Okay, you need to calm down,” She whispers. “Here, come in here.” They duck into an unused barroom. It’s dark and empty, light only through the windows. “Uh, just sit for a second.”

Thor sinks into a chair and puts his head into his hands. “Shit.”

“I think you’re having a panic attack.” She lets him calm for a while. “This is about Sakaar.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” He snaps.

“Hm.” She sits on a stool at the bar. “It’s funny, you sounded just like Loki there. ‘Obviously,’ it’s exactly how he would say it. You two really are related.”

“Not helping.”

“Would it help if I apologized?”

“Unlikely.”

The Valkyrie nods. A few more minutes pass. “I am. Sorry. I know it won’t help, but I am.”

Thor’s breath comes easier, leaving him feeling floaty. “Wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to survive.”

“An excuse. Not a particularly good one. I was on Sakaar for a long, long time, your majesty. It got really easy to just go along with the Grandmaster’s whims. Survival, yes. But there were other ways to survive and I didn’t take them.” She leans on her hand. “And I’m sorry for not realizing you’d be affected by this. I didn’t think you would be.”

“I am not.”

“Sure. You just had a panic attack for no reason.”

Thor closes his eyes. “It’s not…it was not a _good_ feeling, to be trapped on Sakaar. I know I was profoundly lucky, the amount of bodies down in the fighters’ quarters told me that. And Loki, he…I still don’t _know_ what happened, he won’t tell me more than scraps, but I can tell _something_ did. So I have nothing to complain about.” He takes a deep breath. “It was my own damned sister who cast me to Sakaar, I only faced the Hulk in the arena, a friend, and escaped in a matter of days.” He smiles crookedly. “Even got a bit of revenge on the tyrant. But yes, I suppose I will admit…watching them, in there…brought back…”

The Valkyrie looks stricken. “I’m sorry. Really, I am sorry. And Thor, just because you didn’t have it the _worst_ doesn’t mean-”

“I know.” He gives her a small smile. “I do. But there’s something else, I suppose.

He takes a deep breath. “A few hundred years ago, we were sent to break up a slaving ring on Alfheim. It wasn’t the usual stuff, not just the gambling debts and the prisoners of war. They’d started taking people from the capital, luring mages into their clutches, drugging them, kidnapping them. They were selling them across the Nine, so Father decided that Asgard had to get involved.” Thor clears his throat. “We used Loki as bait. I probably shouldn’t have done that, it was a foolish risk. But we thought the best way to find them was to let them take a mage and follow them. It was a mistake, but back then I still thought we were immortal. Untouchable. It was ludicrous to think we could be harmed.

“But it made it too easy to see Loki in them. Even if we took them, gave him the antidote for what they’d drugged him with, long before he would have been in any true danger, when we found their base…I couldn’t help imagining my brother there. They were held in these cages. Beaten, starved, whipped like animals. There were some that had been driven mad by the bond on their powers, others who had already died, from disease or starvation, I don’t know. The slavers admitted…admitted to raping them, admitted to selling them out as whores before they were eventually sold to more permanent arrangements. Some went into the battle field, others went to the brothels. None of them lasted long, I’m sure.”

“They didn’t last long on Sakaar either.” The Valkyrie looks a bit nauseous. “It’s wild, isn’t it? Magic’s one of the most powerful forces in the universe, sorcery can produce miracles. But it leaves the casters so open. Vulnerable, in many ways.”

“They admitted that they’d…that they’d sometimes keep ones they found…appealing. And they’d…” Thor sinks his head back into his hands with a groan. “I don’t know if I can watch this.”

“We have to. If we want to get off of this planet alive, we have to pretend everything’s normal. It will be okay.” She offers him a hand up. “If we made it off Sakaar, we can make it off this garbage knockoff, right?”

Thor nods. “You are right.”

“Of course I am, your majesty.” But she doesn’t quite sound sure.

“And you’re _sure_ we have to watch the fights?”

“The invitation was pretty clear,” The Valkyrie says bitterly. “And I think you should imagine what Loki will say if you return to your suite having skipped the fights.”

Thor groans. “You’re right. He would kill me.”

 

One would think that a contest of champions relying on mages rather than brute violence would be more dignified. Less bloody.

One would be wrong.

In the first bout, the winner uses electric magic to fry their opponent to a crisp.

In the third, the witch casts a horrible curse that boils the other alive.

The fifth, the winner uses a smokescreen to disguise her movements, then attacks with a lightning fast series of bolts that leave blood and scorch marks over the floor of the arena.

By the final match, Thor is having to take deep breaths through his nose to keep the sparks at bay. He’s retreated a little behind Karos, to hopefully prevent him from seeing his magic, or his rage. The Valkyrie is at his elbow, drinking.

“This one will be really good.” Karos turns back to him. “This week’s favorite, very powerful.”

The favorite is a tall man with long red hair and ragged clothes. His opponent is a pale, white haired man, armed only with a staff. They suss each other out for a long time, sizing each other up. Then the one with the staff strikes.

The favorite conjures illusionary creatures, but the staff obliterates them. Then a wall of fire, and the staff conjures water.

They all turn out to be feints. The redhead gets behind him and with a long blade, slashes across his side.

“See, he’s really good at that.” Karos claps.

The other dodges the blade, catching him under the chin with his staff. They separate, but then the redhead smiles. In the blood trail, dark creatures rises, with long, sharp claws. The other casts spell after spell at the creatures, but for each killed, three more rise up.

The mage grows desperate, backed into a corner, his power unleashed in his panic. “No!” He shouts. He gets a crazed glint in his eye, and begins chanting. The creatures all shatter at once, and he wavers. He’s used up a lot of power in the working, but rushes forward anyways.

“Yes, I knew this one would be a challenge for him!” Karos nudges his neighbor. “A real challenge this time, you may have to pay up.”

“I would not count out our favorite yet, Karos.”

“Thor, you need to calm down,” The Valkyrie whispers.

“Sorry.” He stamps down the sparking magic within him.

The fight continues for some time. Thor realizes that the tide has turned when he sees how unaffected the redhead is by his expenditure of magic. The other mage is growing desperate as his energy drains, relying less and less on actual magic and more on strategy and brute strength. He is clearly the more skilled caster, but the redhead seems to have impossible reserves of power.

In the end, the mystery of his deep well of magic is solved. Instead of killing the other mage outright upon defeat, or allowing him to retreat, he pins him with shadowy tendrils, staking him down and taking him apart pieces by piece. When he is finished, he is soaked in blood, the magic of the other mage is absorbed, and he holds his opponent's head to the cheering crowds.

“Well that’s graphic,” The Valkyrie remarks. “Nothing I haven’t seen before but…effective.”

Thor shrugs. “Makes for a good spectacle. Of course he’s the favorite, he absorbs all the other mages’ power. The others don’t stand a chance.” He’s feeling a bit relieved. The fights had been creative and brutal, but Thor had imagined worse.

Thor watches as the mage in the arena begin to laugh and laugh. Laughs so hard he is crying. The guards come in with sparking batons. They drive him to his knees, clamp a collar around his neck and bind his wrists behind him. He’s still laughing as they drag him off the bloody arena floor. He is not too far away for Thor to miss the look of agony and madness on his face.

The relief drains away. In its place is cold horror.

 

Thor bursts into the room, slamming the door behind him. He paces back and forth across the small carpet, burning with fury. “I cannot watch that…that _horrid_ display again.” Loki, on his perch, gives him a caw and a stern look. “You cannot expect me to just sit by-” Loki flaps his wings and appears before him in his usual form.

“You must.”

“I cannot. You haven’t seen, but you know what’s going on. How can you say we just walk away? What if it were you, down there in that arena, being driven mad, being slaughtered-”

“It is _not_ me, brother,” Loki snaps.

“But that’s what I see,” Thor roars. “Every time I look at those mages, dying in the arena, being held in cages with _corpses_. It is just like on Alfheim, _Norns_ , I look at them and I see _you_.”

“Thor.” Loki sighs. “Is this not about yourself as well? You can too easily picture yourself there?”

“We can’t just leave them to their fate,” He says instead of facing Loki’s observation. “This place…we can’t just leave it like this. Norns, it disgusts me. I cannot _do_ this.” He sits down hard on the edge of the bed.

Loki takes a deep breath and kneels beside him. “You’ve always been like this, brother. You’ve always wished to save the wretched, and believed that you had the power to do so, even when it was beyond you. Once I would have followed you down this path. But now I can only hope to make you see reason.” His voice drops as he grips Thor’s wrist desperately. “We are vastly outnumbered and outgunned. We can only think of our own people now.”

Thor looks away. Loki’s grip tightens on his wrist. “Think of what would happen to Asgard if we fight against them and lose, which we almost certainly will. You and I will be enslaved to the arena, forced to fight. Bruce surely will be as well, once they learned who he is, and Karos will rejoice at stealing the Grandmaster’s prized champion. The Valkyrie, Heimdall, Korg, any other warrior who took up arms will be immediately executed. Our people will be lost, combed through for any traces of magic, the rest sent to work as galley slaves or slaughtered. Is that what you want?”

“Loki-”

“We cannot save everyone in the universe, not anymore. Sometimes - _often_ now - we can only save ourselves.” Loki’s green eyes sparkle in the dim light. “Call me selfish, call me callous, but you know that I am right.” Thor covers his hand where it grips his arm.

He thinks back to when they broke into the cages the slave-mages had been kept in on Alfheim. The stench of blood and other bodily fluids, the tight cages with magical bindings that even from the outside made his teeth ache and had sent Loki stumbling back outside to be sick in the grass. The mages who had been reduced to madness by the assault on their power.

“Okay,” Thor finally says. Loki slumps in relief. “I will protect you. I will protect our people. And when we repair the ship and are given leave…I will leave this planet to its vices.”

“ _Thank_ you,” Loki says, with true relief. “Thank you. Now.” He rises from his knees and sits next to Thor on the bed. “What did you bring me?”

“Not much, brother.” He pulls the napkin that he’d managed to secret away. “I’m sorry.”

Loki gives him a look. “You’re not going to launch into a guilt-ridden tirade about _that_ now, are you?” He takes the food. “You’re doing your best.”

Thor is coming to hate that phrase. It haunts him. His best has never been good enough and it feels now like an excuse. His best got Asgard destroyed. And his best never feels like enough to protect what’s left.

He takes in the circles under Loki’s eyes, how sharp his cheekbones look. He lays a hand on Loki’s back and thinks he feels bonier than usual. “How much longer do you have?”

Loki shoots him a look. “You’re being dramatic.”

“I am _not_ -” Thor takes a deep breath. “I am sorry. I am concerned. That is all.”

Loki takes a long drink out of the bottle of water. “I can hold out a few more days. After three…I would not count on me to be of much use if this comes to a fight.”

Thor frowns. “I’ll check in with Heimdall in the morning.”

 

When he gasps awake from fuzzy nightmares of the arena, Loki is not beside him. Instead, he is perched on the footboard in the shape of a raven, his head bowed in sleep. With his heart still stuttering in his chest, Thor sits up and gently runs his fingers down Loki’s smooth feathers. His hand trembles.

He thinks of how quickly Loki had seen through his deflection - it was true that when he looked down at the mages in the arena he could too easily picture his brother there, recall memories of that mission to Alfheim. But his nightmares told the truth, and Loki had seen it in an instant.

Thor sighs, and keeps petting back Loki’s smooth feathers. Loki stirs, giving him a confused, curious sort of croak.

“Sorry,” He whispers and his voice is rough. “Sorry, I needed-”

Loki hops onto his arm, tucks his head under Thor’s hand in a signal to continue. Thor’s inhale is unsteady as he resumes his quiet stroking of the black feathers.

 

In the morning, Thor carries Loki to his perch, ignoring his irritated caw when he ruffles his feathers.

“Things are proceeding normally,” Heimdall informs him. “It does not seem that there are any suspicions or conspiracies against us. It helps that Bruce is overseeing the repairs, I think. They might have tried to delay us longer if he hadn’t been watching.”

“Good. I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

“You are far from alone in that sentiment.” Heimdall is looking at him very gravely. “But Thor-”

“Spare me, I’ve already gotten the lecture from Loki.”

“We cannot save everyone.”

“This place is disgusting. It’s worse than…you didn’t see Sakaar, but it is _worse_ than Sakaar. I can’t just…”

“You have to hold yourself in check, your majesty. If - _if_ we make it away safely,” Heimdall drops his voice. “I will support you in reporting their activities to a higher authority. Or assisting any native attempts to overthrow the existing order. But we must get ourselves away first.”

“I know, I know.”

“There is a girl. Not yet even a hundred. She’s showing the signs of being a natural mage. She moves her toys and she’s begun displaying very primitive illusions. Lights, shapes. No doubt mimicking the little illusionary tales the prince has been casting for the children.” Heimdall says. Thor scrubs a hand over his face. “In case you needed additional motivation, my king. Pass this along to the Valkyrie, if you will. She is nearly as undone this morning as you are.”

So Thor goes to find the Valkyrie.

“I need to talk to you,” He hisses. “Alone.” She nods. She looks tired, like she hadn’t slept. They return to his room and she goes immediately to the window, tugging the curtains shut.

Loki shifts back into his usual form. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Valkyrie looks him up and down. “You look like shit.”

“One, you do as well. Two, stress and subsisting off scraps do not exactly do wonders for the complexion,” He snaps. “What are you two doing here?”

“Heimdall said you were suspicious.”

“I don’t know, I just feel like things are a little too easy. A little too smooth.”

Loki frowns. “Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?”

Valkyrie shakes her head. “I don’t know. It just feels…he’s not the Grandmaster, right? But he lasted that fucking long on Sakaar, he had to pick up all the head games.”

Loki folds his arms across his chest. “I want to come with you.”

“No.” Thor and the Valkyrie say at the same time. Loki rolls his eyes.

“Are you insane?” Valkyrie says. “That’s the worst possible thing you could do. He’s been asking after you - if he found out we’d been hiding you-”

“Asking about me? You didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant, I didn’t think-”

“Not _relevant?_ ”

There are footsteps in the hall, and they all quiet. The footsteps pass. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Thor whispers. “I should have. But we can’t keep this up. We have to leave, as soon as possible.”

“I checked in with Bruce, he said everything seemed normal. The repairs should be done in time, but if they have some other way of keeping us here…”

Loki’s gaze is distant. “What did we hit? What did we hit, what damaged the stabilizers?” He looks at them. “Have we figured that out? What if this wasn’t as much of an accident as we thought?”

Thor’s stomach drops. The Valkyrie bites her lip.

“Tomorrow. We try to leave tomorrow.”

“And if he already knows?” The Valkyrie asks.

“I am getting us out of here,” Thor says firmly. “We did not escape Sakaar and kill Hela to wind up enslaved here!”

Loki’s twisting his fingers together, thumb drawing an anxious circle. His eyes look a little glassy. “Did you bring me anything?”

“We haven’t had lunch yet. I’ll try, this afternoon. I can try to sneak into the kitchens-”

Loki shakes his head. “No, that will be too suspicious. It’s fine, I am just…I am just hungry.” He offers a wan smile. “It’s nothing.”

Valkyrie frowns. “I’ll try. It won’t be as odd for me.”

“And if you get caught sneaking into Thor’s chambers?” Loki turns his back to them. “I’ll be fine. Just leave me alone here, as usual.” He changes into the raven and sullenly takes to his perch, tucking his head under his wing.

Thor sighs. “We’re going to go,” He says. He runs his knuckles down the feathers of his back. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

 

Thor manages to sneak Loki back some water and dry crackers in the afternoon, and leaves him just as snappish as he had been that morning.

Karos has another mid-afternoon get together, but in the middle of the party he pulls Thor away.

“I just wanted to chat, just for a minute.” Thor glances at the Valkyrie, drawn into conversation with a Xandaran, and decides he won’t be far. Karos brings him to a small room off the main one, where there are only a few servants.

“Good, now we can talk.” He lounges in an opulent chair. “How are you finding my lovely planet?”

“We cannot thank you enough for your hospitality,” Thor says carefully. This is the precise situation he desperately wishes Loki was by his side for. He is not talented with obfuscation, and has to think too long about each word that comes out of his mouth to avoid walking into a trap. Something Loki does as smoothly as breathing. “Truly, we can never repair you for your help repairing our ship. I understand things are proceeding-”

“It’s nothing, absolutely nothing. In fact,” Karos smiles dangerously. “I wanted to give you another token of my appreciation.” He knocks on the wall.

Two servants drag in the girl with the long brown hair from the previous day - the one who had been crying before Karos. She has been dressed garishly, made up with splattered makeup. Her pupils are blown wide and she sways when released. She’s been drugged with something powerful. Thor’s heart sinks.

“I saw the way you were staring at her, sly dog,” Karos grins. “Normally I’d still charge, but for a guest as illustrious as the King of Asgard, I can make an exception.”

“No, not necessary,” Thor says faintly.

“Come on! I’m sure you could use some creature comforts, after so long in the cold dark of space. Some flesh to warm your bed?”

“No,” Thor says, more firm now.

“She has been well trained in the last two days. We have a very talented staff, she’s been prepared well, but I offer the first lay to you-”

Lightning flashes, striking a nearby tower.

“Disgusting,” Thor growls. “I cannot keep up with the charade of assenting to this disgusting place. You are a madman, just as much as the Grandmaster, you are a perverse, deranged _monster_ -”

Karos begins to laugh. “Took you long enough. You think I couldn’t see through you from the start? Making you squirm these last three days has been an _absolute_ pleasure. What a game - I’m almost sad it’s over. It’s been such fun. But you will make an excellent addition to the contest, once we make sure you can be trusted with your power of course.” He shoves the girl towards him. Thor catches her as she stumbles against him.

He is angry, angrier than he’s been in a long time, the past days building up to a righteous fury. Lightning strikes outside again, the accompanying thunder rattles the windows. It begins to rain. But something is wrong - he can feel the storm in his blood building, but there is no accompanying sparks traveling through him. Nothing but unfulfilled energy. The storm outside rages, but cannot rise within him. It’s like there’s something blocking him from the power outside.

“What have you done?”

“A binding on the room. A real sorcerer would have sensed it the second he walked through the door - but you’ve never been a real sorcerer, have you? A storm-witch, powerful, but unskilled. _Perfect_ for the arena.”

“I will _never_ fight in your arena, you vile-”

“You will. My security forces have this place surrounded. They’ve distracted your guard. Your people are scattered and broken - seemed like farmers for the most part. Weak. So you’ll stay here and become the centerpiece to my contest. Now. These bonds on the room are fine for now, but you’ll need to make me trust you before I let you walk around here without something stronger holding you back.” Thor spits a curse at him. He steadies the girl, holding her up as she wavers.

Karos only smiles. “You will have to prove that I can trust you.”

“And how would I do that?”

“Fuck her.”

Thor blinks. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“Fuck her. Accept my gift. I’ll even let you stay in your suite, far away from the other battle slaves. You really don’t want to get trapped down there, do you?” The thought of the fighters’ quarters makes Thor’s stomach turn.

The young woman is coming out from under the drug’s influence. She’s shaking against him, but sets her expression into a firm line. Her makeup is already smeared where tears have tracked down her face. Fear and determination blend in her expression and Thor’s heart breaks.

“Go on,” Karos urges. “Fuck her.”

Thor helps the girl sit. “No. I won’t.” She looks hesitantly relieved, but still afraid. “Instead I think I’ll tear you limb from limb.” The full force of his powers might be muted, but he still has his strength. And the dimmed spark of lightning. These bonds had not been designed to hold a god, if he can just let the lightning build a little more he can break-

Karos sighs. He sounds almost wistful. “I was really hoping to do this the _fun_ way. Not the bloody one. But I guess you need further incentive.” He raps twice again on the wall and another servant enters. He’s carrying a birdcage.

Thor’s heart stops. _No_ , he thinks. _No, Loki - oh Norns, he knows_. Loki caws in the cage, beating his wings against the bars. The cage is enchanted - light sparks each time Loki’s wings connect, and there is no clear door.

Karos coos at the cage, sticking his fingers through the bars. Loki snaps at him and he laughs as he retreats. “Spirited. This creature clearly means a lot to you, and I can see why.” Thor’s heart is pounding in his chest. “So powerful, and old. Sad without its twin though. I’d heard that they could see all and report back to Odin all that happened in his realms.”

_He doesn’t know_ , Thor realizes in a flash. _He doesn’t know!_ Karos clearly believes that the bird is indeed Munin - he _has_ been manipulating them, but not with the leverage Thor feared. He wants to laugh.

“Please,” He forces himself to say instead. “Please, it’s the only thing I have left of my father.” He’s not as good an actor as his brother, but the performance will have to do.

Karos smiles, wide and sinister. “Bring me the bird.” He draws a knife. Thor’s heart is thundering in his ears. The servant breaks the enchantment on the birdcage, and opens the newly appeared door. A second servant grasps the raven and bring it to Karos, holding his wings tight to his body.

“Sh, sh, sh,” Karos says as Loki chirps, sounding distressed. Thor can tell it is part of the act, but it still tugs on his heart. Dark storm clouds swirl in the sky outside the window. He imagines how he’s going to destroy this place and has to stop himself from grinning. “Come here, you beautiful thing.” Karos raises the knife.

The raven ripples and Loki forcefully slams through the bonds on the room to shift his form. He strikes out at the servants and drives his own long knife straight through Karos’s chest.

Karos gasps, chokes as the blade drives the air from his lungs. He takes a wet breath in. “You…you…were…” Understanding dawns on his face and his expression changes from shock to fury. “ _Shapeshifter!_ ”

Loki smiles. The knife in Karos’s hand glows red hot and he drops it. Loki twists the knife deeper into his chest.

“Hello, Karos. Lovely to see you again.” He uses the same sickly sweet tone Karos had been using. “ _Norns_ , you make me sick.”

“You…you,” Karos snarls. “You won’t get away with this, you sniveling _whore!_ ” The girl cowering behind Thor makes a choked, horrified noise. “My people will not allow it, they will protect me-”

The door is kicked in. The Valkyrie tosses the body of a guard to the floor. “Sorry, majesty,” She says, wiping blood off her sword. “I couldn’t resist missing out on the fun. And I wasn’t going to let him miss out either. Once I realized you’d disappeared, I went to find him.”

Thor smiles. “Find who now?”

The Hulk destroys the wall behind her with a almighty roar. Mortar and drywall shatters, exploding out over the room.

Karos looks stricken. “ _No._ ”

“Oh yes,” Loki says. “Did we forget to tell you? We escaped Sakaar - started a bit of a rebellion on our way out. Picked up the Grandmaster’s champion. I was surprised the news hadn’t made it this far yet. It was a brutal scene.” Loki twists the knife again and Karos howls in pain.

“Korg and the others should be breaking into the fighters’ quarters now,” The Valkyrie says. “So it seems as though we’ve started a second. Fun.”

Karos begins to laugh through blood coating his teeth. “A rebellion, I can’t believe you had it in you. When your forces are beaten back - which they will be - I’m going to enjoy what I do to you. Oh yes, I’m going to enjoy _you_ , Loki, squirming beneath me. Just like-” He’s cut off by a massive peal of thunder.

“I _was_ planning on slitting your throat, but I think I’ll leave you to the Hulk instead.”

“Big Guy, I think you can smash this one.”

The Hulk roars and rushes forward as Loki throws Karos in his path. The two of them tumble through a wall, sending debris and drywall flying, and disappear.

“Well. That’s taken care of,” Loki remarks dryly. “Let’s go.”

“We’ve got to get out of the tower before the Big Guy smashes it to bits. Bruce managed to speed along the stabilizer fixes, so we’re ready to go.” The tower shakes. “Come on.”

Thor turns to the girl. “Can you walk?” He offers her a hand.

“I don’t…I don’t…” Her eyes dart around.

Loki pushes Thor aside to crouch before the girl. He grips her shoulders. “Enough. You need to focus.”

“Loki…”

“I can’t,” The girl cries. “I’m not…I’m nothing, I can’t escape.”

“You need to snap out of this. Are you all that they made you? Nothing but a whore, a broken, powerless thing? No, of course not. You’re more than what they made you, witch. The bonds on your magic will release once the central command is destroyed. The drugs will leave your system soon. Now get up, and walk out of here.”

She nods shakily. “Thank you.”

Loki helps her to her feet. “Down the stairs, quickly. The Valkyrie will guide you to help.” She follows the Valkyrie down the stairs, leaving the brothers alone.

The tower shakes and Thor feels the full strength of the storm return to him. Thunder rolls outside.

Loki smiles. “Are you happy, brother? You get to destroy this place after all.”

“I’ll be happier when it’s done. But I will admit,” He lets a slow smile spread. “I am going to enjoy the destruction.”

“Let’s go then.”

 

The chaos of destruction is violent but fairly short lived - Karos’s loyalists put up a token fight, but much of their loyalty dissolves in the face of blood and death. A couple of the fighters put up a resistance as well, but they are put down by Thor and Loki’s magic and the Valkyrie’s blade. When the Hulk arrives, roaring, the rest lay down their arms and surrender.

They lock the guards and the worst of the offenders in the conveniently vacated cells. They set up medical services and help break bonds on magic and treat wounds for most of the day.

A wild storm rages all the while. The torrential downpour seem to wash away some of the filth.

Finally, the Asgardians are ready to depart. The people of Zaton have much work to do but it is no longer their responsibility. Some of the Sakaarans decide to stay as well, to help rebuild as they had not gotten a chance to on Sakaar. The Ark is repaired and ready to fly, they’ve bid their farewells, and bundled their people away.

Aboard the Ark, Loki sleeps for nearly 20 hours, sleeping off the exhausted caused by the constant shifting of his form. Thor keeps checking on him, in between reassuring his people. Thor’s suddenly afraid he’s ill, or he’s disappeared, or some other calamity has befallen him. But each time he checks, Loki is sound asleep, breathing evenly. Once, Thor pokes his shoulder, checking to be _sure_ he was not an illusion. Loki just groans, turning his face further into the pillow. Thor smiles fondly and leaves him be.

Heimdall, the Hulk, and Valkyrie are drinking in the bar, looking relaxed.

“Join us, majesty!” Valkyrie calls, holding up a bottle. Thor just smiles and fetches a bottle from the cupboard.

"Thor stay?" The Hulk grunts.

“I think I’d like some time alone,” He says. “But thank you.”

“We’ll be here if you change your mind, your majesty,” Heimdall says gently. The Valkyrie raises her glass to him.

Thor goes to drink alone, looking out at the stars. A few hours into his solitude, soft footsteps break his concentration.

“Finally, I find you,” Loki says. “Drinking alone, brother?”

“Yes, _alone_ being the operative word.”

Loki ignores him, sitting beside him with a yawn. “How are you feeling?”

“How am _I_ feeling? I’m not the one who just slept nearly the whole day away-”

“No, you’re just the one who didn’t sleep at all. And who’s drank at least half a bottle of this,” He shakes the bottle and sniffs the vapors, wincing at the strong smell. “Alone.”

“How do you know I didn’t sleep?” Thor asks quietly. He looks to Loki, who smiles.

“Lucky guess.”

Thor looks back at the stars. The alcohol in his bloodstream makes his head pleasantly fuzzy, the stress and feelings held at bay by the intoxicating effects.

“What is it, Thor?”

“It’s just…with everything else, Ragnarök, Tha - the other thing.” He changes direction when Loki tenses. “I had forgotten,” He chuckles. “I’d forgotten about Sakaar.”

Loki nods. “I’d been trying to forget,” He admits. “It was easier to pretend it didn’t happen. It’s always…” He takes a deep breath. “It’s always easier to pretend that things…don’t…happen.”

Thor snorts. “We’re really good at that. This whole family. Always have been.”

“Yes.”

“I knew that we wouldn’t be trapped there forever,” He says. “On Sakaar. But then they cut my hair and rigged the fight and I started to think…to think that we were foolish for thinking we were more than that. We were fools to think ourselves untouchable.” Thor’s next breath stutters. “I think you may have been right, what you said then. It may be best for us to never see each other again. Because I can’t protect you, and I will only lead you further into danger.”

Loki rests his chin on his hands and watches Thor with wide green eyes. That he does not interrupt or let any emotion show on his face spurs Thor on. Loki sits, and lets Thor talk and talk. It doesn’t fix everything - it doesn’t fix _most_ things. He still doesn’t know what happened to his brother on Sakaar, and teasing the details out will likely not be an easy task. He still feels weighed down by the pressure of protecting his people and like his best is far from sufficient. But he talks about some of his fears and his pain and Loki - miracle of all miracles - quietly sits and lets him.

And when he has to stop, breathing deeply, overcome, Loki still says nothing, but wraps his long fingers around Thor’s wrist and squeezes.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, this got so angsty. These siblings are such disasters, I love them so much. 
> 
> This was also one of those stories where halfway through writing, I realized it wasn't about what I thought it was. I thought it would be about uncovering Loki's trauma on Sakaar, but it was really about _Thor's_ trauma and how he's crumbling under the weight of his enormous responsibilities. (He's trying so hard, and he really isn't doing a bad job - he just _feels_ like he's doing a bad job and he's super anxious, all the time.) 
> 
> [Note: I'm also aware of the more complicated nature of translating 'Hugin' and 'Munin' into concepts, but I went with the popular translation of 'Thought' and 'Memory' for simplicity/familiarity's sake.] 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, kudos/comments/shares always appreciated! <3
> 
> Follow me on tumblr [@bereft-of-frogs](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/) for further angsty disaster siblings content, writing progress and complaining, and further shenanigans!


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